Be Our Guest
by chestnutss
Summary: The war is over and our young witches and wizards return to Hogwarts to finish their education. Normality is supposed to catch up with them. What happens is the exact opposite: dark memories haunt their minds, old rivalries resurface and no one really seems to be able to move on with their lives...until they find that music might well be the only thing that could safe them all.
1. The Return

**The Return**

She was tired. Tired of the world pulsing with life, tired of people around her moving on, tired of not being able to do the same. The young Hannah Abbott was standing in front of the wall to platform 9 3/4 - just like seven years ago. Her feelings, however, could not have been any more different than last time. All innocence, all excitement and hopes that had filled her chest with a comfortable anticipation back then were now replaced by dullness and resignation. She was slowly, but surly vanishing. The war had changed her; in a way that not even she recognized the reflection of herself in a mirror, in a way that the thoughts running through her head seemed to belong to a stranger, not to her old self. Sure enough the good has won over the evil. But at what cost? This had yet to show.  
With slow movements, she willed her numb body to drag itself the last few metres towards the barrier. Another year at Hogwarts, another year filled with nightmares.

••••

Steam billowed out under the red engine and gracefully danced through the air. Students and their families had gathered all over the platform, saying their goodbyes, exchanging some last loving words - the air was filled with laughter, eyes shone with tears, bodies were pressed together in tight hugs. Harry wisely had chosen to stand at the side of all the hustle and bustle, slightly hidden by a large panel advertising the latest invention of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. He radiated a certain calmness - might have something to do with a certain dark wizard gone from the world, but that's just a wild guess - and only his emerald green eyes would show the hint of a shadow whenever a painful memory resurfaced. He lifted his hands to blow a warming breath at them - he should not have forgotten his gloves - when he heard a joyful shout. He turned and flashed a big grin at his two best friends approaching. After they had managed to elbow their way towards him he was swept into a bone crushing hug with Ron and Hermione. He felt safe.

••••

"Golden Trio reunited", the blonde stated in his usual drawl. His other fellow Slytherins simply rolled their eyes in response. None of them was interested in getting any more involved with the Saviour and his entourage than was strictly necessary. This should be a calm and quiet year - please, just this once! It was difficult to not notice how much their number had diminished, what with most of their house mates supporting the Dark Lord and now dwelling in cells of Azkaban or under cold earth. Blaise, Theo and Draco seemed to be the only ones to go back to Hogwarts for their 8th year. They were determined to focus on finishing their education. No mingling, no drama, no nothing.

••••

Oh, but don't worry: they will be in a shitload of trouble soon ;)


	2. Welcome home?

**Welcome ... home?**

From the beginning of their journey until the end things only kept getting worse.

Harry, Hermione and Ron had managed to find an empty compartment in the middle of the train and were just about to levitate their trunks on the luggage rack when the door slipped open.  
Hannah stood there; face blank and thin strands of blonde hair framing her face.  
"Hi" she said, not being able to think of anything better to say. What exactly _do_ people say, when they meet each other for the first time after a war? No one had prepared them for this scenario. The other three acknowledged her presence by offering her a polite nod. Hermione even gave her a kind smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. The blonde took this as permission and entered the compartment, lifting her trunk on the rack and then trying (and failing) to blend in with her surroundings and turn invisible on her seat.

Hermione and Ron chose to sit down near the window – or rather, Ron sat down on the seat and Hermione sat on his lap. Their bodies seemed to intertwine with each other into one. The gesture had a desperate air about it - as if they feared to be separated, as if neither of them would survive one second without his counterpart. Hannah quickly averted her gaze. She was not embarrassed to see them both together - by all means, she was glad that their relationship seemed to have gotten stronger after the war - no, her problem was that the sight of their happiness pained her young heart, for she knew her love would never be returned by _him_. She had tried several times to approach him, inviting him for a Hogsmeade trip, a walk around the lake, but he had never returned her feelings. It was painful, and that was putting it mildly. She wanted to forget about him and move on, but as with all the other worries that burdened her mind at the moment, she did not know how.  
Her gaze shifted towards the other young man, their Saviour, sitting next to the window on her left. A strangely vacant expression ghosted over his face. Hannah felt another sharp pang to her heart. For God's sake, if she continued this way, she would die of a heart attack!

Unfortunately, she was still very much aware of why she felt so guilty towards him. Back in their fourth year she had, of course, supported Cedric during the Triwizard Tournament. Like the majority of the school, she had reproached Harry for stealing Hufflepuff's glorious moment and trying to get everyone's attention. She clearly remembered the day when she and some fellow housemates had blocked Harry's way and called him atrocious names, teasing him.  
He had looked so broken back then...  
She had never managed (or rather her courage had never been enough) to apologise to him. Would he even care to hear it after such a long time? She knew that her heart would definitely feel lighter afterwards.  
A heavy sigh escaped her lips - she just did not have the energy left to change her situation at the moment, let alone in the foreseeable future.  
Hermione and Ron were having a whispered conversation, while Harry and Hannah contributed their silence. No words escaped their mouths, but in their minds they could hear the screams, the explosions, the desperate cries : the sounds of war.

Hannah hardly registered any movement, really; neither when the train departed, nor when their compartment door slipped open. She realized that something had changed when a puffy noise reached her ears. Lazily she lifted her eyes to see what the source of this annoying sound was. The sight left her flabbergasted.  
The young man standing at the door somehow looked like Neville Longbottom, but at the same time he was so different. He had not simply gained weight; it was as if he had been hit by an engorgement charm. His body was three times as wide as before, his cheeks resembled ripe apples, red and shiny, while his eyes almost vanished behind heavy eyelids. The simple activity of walking down the train towards their compartment seemed to have cut his breath short, sweat decorated his front and his robes hung down his left shoulder.

His rather dramatic appearance had not gone unnoticed by the others.  
"N – Neville?" Hermione sputtered. She, too, seemed to find it difficult to believe her eyes. She even leant away from Ron to have a closer look at the young man. Ron's mouth hung open in a silent "o" while his brain tried to decide which remark would be the best one to describe this situation.  
"Bloody hell!" there it was.  
Everyone in the compartment seemed to have received a surge of energy and Neville found four pairs of eyes staring at him intently.  
"Hey guys" Neville greeted them brightly and tried to walk through the compartment door. The door, however, was not ready for his 'circumference' and he bumped off the frames like a rubber ball.

"Hmpf", he grunted and looked at the door in surprise. Hannah actually felt a spark of amusement flickering insider her. She observed how his face contorted itself in concentration and he turned his body to walk sideways - like a crab - two large arms sticking out at each end, holding his breath. The blonde could have sworn that there was a light 'plop' audible when he had made it through the door. The rubber ball stumbled a few steps further into the compartment and everyone had to press themselves further into their seats if they wanted to avoid being squashed by him.

"Whoops, sorry" he said with a sheepish grin and giggled while trying to place his body in a comfortable way on the remaining seat. Hannah had the urge to rub her eyes and ask someone to pinch her. Was this really Neville? How did he turn into this …. this …. marshmallow? And was he _happy_?!  
Neville looked at them with shiny eyes. He seemed oblivious to the terror that was evident on their faces, seemed to live in his own imaginary world.  
"Great to be back, isn't it?" he grinned and tapped his stomach with stubby fingers. None of them honestly had recovered yet to manage an answer. He did not seem to mind this though, as he continued to drum his little sticks on his belly and hummed an incoherent tune with it.  
Hannah slowly felt dread rising up inside. What on earth did he do to himself?

••••

Anyone who walked past the compartments of the Hogwarts Express would meet utter chaos and commotion on their way. Students of all ages were running up and down, chattering, laughing, playing Exploding Snap or sharing Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and trading Chocolate Frog Cards.  
Only two compartments in the whole train were dominated by a heavy silence and troubled minds. We are already familiar with the first compartment – the other one was occupied by three Slytherins. Draco, Blaise and Theodore.

The air here was heavy with electricity, unspoken threats and hostility. Draco and Blaise had taken possession of the seats on one side; Theodore had been left on the other side. The hostility and the silent threats were obviously directed at the last one. The Malfoy heir and his best friend pointedly avoided any eye contact with Theodore and preferred to stare out of the window at the now moving landscape. Now and then they would talk to each other in a low whisper, seemingly exchanging very private thoughts.

Theodore did not even try to talk to them. He had so on the platform, but their silence had been a clear enough message to him. He would let them have it for now; after all, they had to get over it some time. If not, he would find a way to push them into talking to him again; even if it meant provoking them into it. He knew how to be patient; he was a snake after all.

••••

The train came to a stop. Outside the compartment door they could see students with eager faces making their way towards the exits, pushing and shoving each other. Only when the last student had passed their compartment door did the three statues slowly come to live and stepped outside onto the platform. There was not a soul there except from…  
"Merlin's Beard!" Draco exclaimed when his eyes fell on Harry, Hermione, Ron, a Hufflepuff girl, whose name he had forgotten, and what looked like a human _Quaffle_. There was hardly another word for this apparition. His fellow Slytherins curiously followed his gaze and both took in a sharp breath at the sight. What on earth was that? Did that oaf of a groundkeeper let loose one of his atrocious creatures again?

The little (well, not very little) group of five started to walk towards them. The Golden Boy was leading them and hardly took note of the three young men as they passed them.  
"Scarhead" Malfoy sneered. He couldn't hold himself back. "Did you bring a new familiar with you? Owls do get boring after a while.." he drawled on.  
"Oh shut up", the Mudblood huffed and hastened her step, slightly pulling Ron with her who had just opened his mouth to retort.  
Neville, however, did not seem perturbed in the slightest.

"Oy, Draco", he yelled and waddled over. The three of them instinctively leaned back as Neville's impressive 'circumstance' invaded their private space.  
"What's up?" he lifted one meaty hand and smacked Draco on the shoulder which sent him bumping into Blaise.  
Draco's sneer fell off his face immediately and was replaced by utter bewilderment as the identity of the _Quaffel_ dawned on him.  
"Longbottom?"  
"See you up there", Neville jerked his head awkwardly towards where the castle was and set off after the others. The three of them exchanged wary looks. None of them commented on what had just happened and they made their way to the waiting carriages. The dark Thestrals waiting there did not really help lightening their mood.  
The last two carriages slowly moved up the hill towards the castle.

The castle.  
Almost 80 percent of its walls had been destroyed during the battle. Now, however, it just looked as impressive and unscathed as it had when they had first laid eyes on it.  
Draco and Blaise exchanged a dark look – there was a deep understanding going on between them of what the other was feeling right now. Theodore just looked at the castle with mild curiosity, not being haunted by dark memories at all.

Their carriage came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs of the entrance. The other five young wizards and witches had also climbed out of their carriage and were now standing at the foot of the stairs. All eight of them stood there in a line – one next to the other – unaware of how eight hearts grew heavy, unaware of how eight people struggled to breathe regularly. They all took one steadying breath and started to climb the stairs.

••••

Warm air surrounded them as soon as they stepped into the Entrance Hall. A bit further away they could see a group of first years huddled together. How small and young they looked. In front of them stood their old Herbology teacher, Professor Sprout, and gave the same little speech they had been given back then. What would they give to spend just an hour or two as a careless first year, stomach heavy with worry about where the hat would place them and excitement bubbling with the prospect of learning magic. If there was one thing they all would agree on, then it was the fact that they had nothing to look forward to here.

Instinctively, they had split up in two groups again - Gryffindors and Hufflepuff on one side - Slytherins on the other. They exchanged wary looks. What now? Should they just walk into the Great Hall and join the rest of the school for the feast? Would they go back to their old dormitories?  
As if she had sensed that her presence was needed, Professor McGonagall appeared at the doors to the Great Hall and walked towards them. Her demeanour did not seem to have changed the slightest since their last encounter. She still had a rather stiff composure and was wearing her hair in her usual bun, square glasses framing intelligent and observant eyes.

"Ah welcome" she began and spread her arms to underline her words.  
"It is a great pleasure to-" both her hands flew up to her chest and covered her heart.  
"Mr Longbottom!" she exclaimed, and again all eyes fell on the poor boy who had been standing behind the others, still largely visible.  
"Good evening, Professor" he cheered and tried to give her a wave, but it rather looked like an uncontrolled wobble. The professor was clearly struggling to regain her composure and it took her a few seconds and several openings and closings of her mouth until she was successful.  
"Well, I - welcome back to Hogwarts" she stated and managed to avert her eyes from this unexpected view.  
"I am very pleased to see you all back here, keen on finishing your education. There have been a few arrangements made to accommodate the eighth years in their own dormitories. You will not join the dormitory of your houses."

The faces of her students showed a mixture of relief and anticipation. Relief, for they would not have to come too close to other curious students and their unwelcome questions - anticipation, because this meant they'd have to share it with certain Slytherins and Gryffindors.  
Oblivious of their inner emotional turmoil, McGonagall carried on.

"As for dinner, you can choose whether you'd like to join the other students in the Great Hall or if you prefer having your food brought to your common room and eat there. I understand that coming back is rather difficult and a bit more quiet might be appreciated?" she raised an inquisitive eyebrow, looking at each one of them in turn. They all nodded in agreement and the witch clapped her hands once.  
A house elf appeared to her right with a loud 'pop'. They all flinched violently at the sound and drew their wands in unison to face any imminent danger.

"My apologies" the professor inclined her head. "I should have warned you beforehand".  
She turned to the little creature that had been patiently waiting at her side for instructions. "Please prepare dinner to be sent into the eighth year common room".  
The little elf nodded enthusiastically, its long ears moving along, and apparated away. This time the students were ready for it and no one flinched. They quickly put their wands back under their robes and looked at the witch expectantly.  
"Now, please, follow me"

Professor McGonagall turned and headed towards the Great Staircase. They dutifully followed, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Hannah and Neville in front; Draco, Blaise and Theodore behind them.  
They had to climb two staircases, and then turn to the right, walk past their Charms classroom until McGonagall finally came to a halt in front of a portrait. It pictured a woman and a man, both sitting at a table, each enjoying a goblet of wine.  
"Ah Minerva" the man croaked and swung his goblet around; he had obviously enjoyed the wine _very_ much so far "'ave our lil ducklins arrive'?"  
The woman to his left eyed them curiously over her goblet.  
"I would not exactly describe them as ducklings" McGonagall answered drily and added, "Temet nosce"  
They could hear a light sigh of exasperation and amusement coming from Neville's direction. The two lifted their goblets "Hea', hea'" and the portrait swung back.  
McGonagall climbed in; eight students at her heels.

••••

This common room did not look like a common room at all.  
On the opposite wall of the portrait they found a row of large windows with a view onto the dark forest. The floor was completely covered in a beige coloured carpet; little blotches of red, green, orange and blue were spread all over. There were two tables to their left with four chairs each. The wood was dark and shone from all the polish it had been treated with. Two vases with wild flowers were set up in the centre of each table.  
On their right they could see a low fire crackling lazily in the stony fire place. An ensemble of couches and armchairs were set up around it. They all were a dark brown. Beige cushions completed the picture.  
Along the wall behind their back hung a large picture of Hogwarts. It showed the castle at night, slightly touched by a soft moon light. Little yellow lights shone from the castle walls. All eight of them were staring at the picture as if in trance.

"Chm" McGonagall delicately cleared her throat to capture their attention.  
"This will be your common room for the remaining school year. We tried not to favour any elements of the four houses, so as to offer you a neutral ground."  
She waved her hand to indicate the beige, brown environment.  
"You will find the girl's room on your right hand side, the boys will be occupying two rooms on the left hand side"  
They saw two dark staircases winding up to the upper floor at the respective ends of the room.  
"Now, I will leave you to unpacking your belongings and making yourself fell at home again" she gave them a hint of a smile.  
"Your food should arrive any minute"  
She swiftly made her way back to the portrait hole.

"And Mr Longbottom" she added in a low whisper so only he could hear "I wish that you pay a visit to Madam Pomfrey. Preferably tonight"  
She gave him a pointed look. Neville simply beamed at her.  
"Yes, will do"  
Her eyebrows rose up but she did not reply. As soon as the portrait swung close, they all started shouting.

"This is ugly as shit-"  
"Beige -, is this even a colour-"  
"The dungeons were much better-"  
"Neutral, ha! This is sterile-"  
"How should this feel like home-"  
"Bullshit, red is a primary colour-",  
"Better kill myself right now-"  
"We won't have green bed sheets anymore-"

They all turned to Blaise, incredulous expressions on their faces.  
"What?" he snarled and narrowed his eyes.  
Harry just shook his head.  
"Ron, Neville, let's go unpack" he turned his back to this horrific version of a common room and climbed the small stairs on his left. Ron snickered at Blaise's comment, took his time saying goodnight to Hermione and followed. Neville happily swayed after him, having already forgotten about visiting Madame Pomfrey.  
Hannah followed Hermione up the staircase to the girl's room on the right side.  
"How long will it take" Draco murmured darkly "until we blow each other up?"

 **A/N : I swear it was not planned to make this chapter so long! I hope you don't find it too heavy and packed.  
Anyway, feedback in all forms and shapes would be more than welcome :)  
Since English is not my mothertongue, I do hope you forgive me if there are expressions or words that I used incorrectly - I gladly accept corrections.  
I hope you find this story worthwhile!**


	3. Secrets of the night

**Secrets of the night**

Harry sighed heavily and ran both hands through his already tousled hair in frustration. According to his watch he had already spent five hours awake in the common room, staring absently into the slowly dying flames. This time, however, it was not a nightmare about Voldemort or a burning scar that kept him from drifting into and remaining in a peaceful sleep. Whenever he closed his eyes he could see them: Tonks, Lupin, Fred, Lavender, lying sprawled on cold stone in their own blood, students who had lost their limbs, unidentified bodies, families grieving over their dead, all of them victims of a war he had let them endure for him.

It all got to him more than he was ready to admit. He kept wondering how Ron and Hermione seemed to be able to manage to live a halfway normal life with those gruesome images in their heads. But then they had each other to hold on to; they had someone who was able to draw their thoughts away from the past and direct them to the future.

What exactly _was_ his future? Did he have one now that his main task had been fulfilled; putting an end to Voldemort's reign of terror and violence? What good was it to be the Chosen One if there was no mission to complete? He felt utterly useless and strangely forlorn. Often he wondered whether any of the others had trouble finding sleep.  
Maybe Malfoy, too, found it hard- but where were his thoughts going now? What interest did he have in Malfoy anyway? He had realized that the blonde seemed much thinner, dark shadows dancing under his eyes - yes, those eyes that usually held a startling grey and looked at him with contempt and always seemed to challenge him had turned into a dull pool of fog and another emotion Harry had not been able to put his finger on...  
At least thinking about Malfoy helped chasing away his other haunting thoughts. But still, that didn't make it easier to find sleep...

••••

Neville opened his eyes so suddenly as if an alarm or a sound had woke him up. He felt the need again, that never ending emotional drain inside of him. As many times before he hoped it would just go away, weaken by itself and leave him in peace. But the sensation poked at his heart, impossible to ignore, just like a mosquito humming next to your ear and coming back again and again. Finally giving in, he struggled to roll off his bed. He had swung a bit too hard and promptly touched down on the cold stone floor.

"Grumphhh", he exclaimed. Immediately, he put both hands to his mouth and tried to listen whether one of his roommates had woken up due to the sound. He could hear Ron's snoring coming from the bed at the far corner of the room. But there was a second rhythmical breath missing. Where had Harry gone?  
The sensation gave him another pang and reminded him of the reason why he actually lay on a cold stone floor. All other thoughts vanished from his mind. Yes, get it, get it now, he thought to himself. Just this one last time and next time you'll be able to resist. The same story as usual. He knew it would never stop.

Slowly, he rolled over and robbed across the stone floor to reach the small leather bag he had leant against the wall. After drawing his wand and murmuring a spell, it opened up and the beautiful content seemed to smile up to Neville. His eyes started to take on a feverish gleam; his hands were shaking slightly as he reached into the bag and grabbed one of the many small vials it contained. The liquid inside shone with a tantalizing turquoise blue, little swirl like whirlwinds moved smoothly inside. Neville's trembling fingers found it very difficult to unstop the vial and he had to make use of his wand instead.  
The promising and all too familiar smell of the potion wafted into his nose and his brain registered it with anticipation. He was almost tempted to down it all in one go, but before he had to warm it up with a swish of his wand. Now, now has come the moment he relished the most.

Carefully, almost lovingly, he set the vial to his lips and tipped it. Blissful peace poured into his very core and he felt all warm and safe. A wide grin spread over his face - all his previous negative and anxious thoughts were replaced by contentment and positivity. With a fond look on his face, he put the empty vial back into the bag and made his way back to bed. Things were good again until the next time...but that did not worry him - for the moment.

••••

Draco was lying in bed.  
One could think that he was sleeping soundly, listening to deep breaths that came from his corner of the room. But the moonlight that was reflected in his wide opened eyes told another tale. He had been unable to close his eyes and drift away into a peaceful sleep ever since his father returned home.  
The Malfoy family name had suffered remarkably after the end of the war. Many witches and wizards within the magical community demanded they be sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban, no matter how unwillingly Draco himself had been forced into the circles of the Death Eaters. His father had been sentenced to a lifelong house arrest due to a lack of cells in Azkaban instead (and possibly thanks to a nice little sum transferred to the Ministry).

If he was honest with himself, Draco would have welcomed it to see his father safely put away behind iron bars. His father had done a good job making Draco's summer hell for him, literally. He winced as he tried to change into a more comfortable position.

Draco had been utterly surprised when none other but Potter had showed up at his trial to _defend_ him! He could not think of any reason why the young man he had bullied throughout their school time would even think of doing such a thing...  
It all led to him being cleared of all charges. They even allowed him to go back to Hogwarts and finish his education. But his name would forever provoke wary glances and he did not even expect to stand a chance of being hired for a job in England once he had finished his last year at the Wizarding School.

His mother had died during the war, killed by her own sister.  
Until this day Draco could easily close his eyes and think back to that moment which changed his whole life.

His mother and he had joined the side of the Order during the final battle, fighting against the remaining Death Eaters spread around the Great Hall. Draco did not quite remember which one of them he had fought exactly; he simply remembered that this man had been present during his initiation. The Dark Lord fought some others in the middle of the Hall when Bellatrix broke away from a fight she had won and came directly at him. Her eyes shone with madness and he knew that it was too late to cast any shielding charm to block her spell. But at this exact moment his mother pretty much tackled her sister and they both hit down hard on the floor. The spell which shot from Bellatrix' wand missed Draco by a few inches and instead hit the wall of the Great Hall behind him, causing stone and concrete to rain down on them all.

"Cissy" Bellatrix screeched, trying to throw her sister off of her.  
"How dare you stand in my way! How dare you betray your family!" she finally managed to shove Narcissa away and Draco found himself again facing her wand. This time he was prepared, however, and he started firing spells at her. After a few seconds he mostly was back to defending and deflecting her spells, feeling his strength lessen with every try to keep her away from him. And then it happened.

The curly haired witch shot a curse at him that tore through his flesh and with a howl of pain he clutched his hands to his stomach.  
"Ready to die, sweetheart?" she hissed and cackled, while a green light formed at the tip of her wand. Draco's vision was slightly clouded. He only saw her blurry outlines and then something blonde shoved itself in front of him.  
"No" he croaked and weekly lifted one arm, dread rising inside him, making him completely oblivious to his own pain. The next thing he remembered was his mother falling on the ground in a heap of limps at his feet. His eyes seemed to turn sharp as an eagle's as he focused on the most important person in his life. Bellatrix herself seemed to be petrified for the fraction of a moment as she contemplated her sister's body. But she turned away hurriedly when the Weasley girl started firing hexes at her, leaving her behind with Draco sinking slowly to his knees, blood dripping from his wound.  
 _"Maman"_ he whispered and cupped her already cold cheek to have one last look at her...his...grey eyes. Darkness crept into his vision and he drifted off into oblivion.

••••

Hannah crept along the dark corridor towards the kitchens. She hadn't met a soul on her way through the halls of the castles and she was thankful for it.  
She wasn't keen on losing any house points during her first week already.  
So what could possibly force a Hufflepuff to leave her bed in the middle of the night and scurry around like some thief?

She had a promise to keep - and Hanna could be stubborn as hell when it came to keeping her word; even if it meant that she had to do something that both scared and excited her and was probably a proof of her going more insane. She would rather eat a bucket full of Flobberworms than disappointing someone's expectations. And the man who had screwed this promise out of her had become a good friend to her during her sixth year at Hogwarts. He had been there during some of her darkest hours, a rock in the stormy sea, and she would be damned if she did not honour his last wish.

She carefully glanced around the corner, trying to slow down her racing heart by taking deep and quiet breaths. Luckily this corridor was empty as well. Quickly she made her way to a certain portrait hanging on the wall to her left.  
Despite the darkness she had no trouble finding the spot and she tickled the canvas of the painting. A high giggle sounded through the corridor. Determinedly, she pushed down the door handle that had appeared out of nowhere and with a rather loud and echoing crack the portrait swung open to reveal an empty kitchen lying in darkness. She climbed through the portrait hole and directed her steps to the far right corner of the room.  
One, two, three... she counted the small cabinets and stopped once she reached the seventh. With another glance around the room she reassured herself that she was truly alone, drew her wand and murmured an incantation to unlock the cabinet doors. She opened them and the inside revealed a packed dirty rucksack. She pulled it out and it landed on the kitchen tiles with a dull thud. It was way heavier than it looked, despite the feather-light charm she'd put on it. But she did not complain; something she would never do anyway and quickly swung the rucksack on her back.

It was time to get to work and finish what the man had started.

••••

The library was quiet. Soft moon light poured through the windows and outlined the spines of ancient and recent works alike. But the calm was deceiving.  
Near the back of the room, a young man was sitting, surrounded by several piles of books. His wand lay somewhere forgotten on the table, serving as the only source of light. The various protection charms he had cast earlier that night seemed to fulfil their job, surprisingly - no noise was heard despite his frantic page turning and occasional desperate swearing.

"There has to be something" Theodore murmured imploringly to the book he was currently skimming through.  
The title on its back promised _Antidotes for most ancient curses_.

He was not willing to give up yet, probably would never be. Since the incident with his mother he had sworn to himself to do everything in his power to reverse it. And if he was unable to lift the curse, then maybe he would find a spell or a potion to slow its effects down...if it wasn't too late then.  
He realised that his hands had started to tremble slightly and he willed them to calm down. Keep your nerve for god's sake, he thought irately. He was a Nott and they never showed their fear or weakness so openly.

It had cost him considerable effort to hide away the change of his magic in front of his teachers during their first week. He often fell back on the excuse that he was still shaken by the events during the war and his reluctance to use magic was responsible for his rather weak performances.  
He couldn't even cast a good _Reparo_ charm - and that was a third year spell!  
His hands were shaking again. With a loud _fuck_ he shoved the book away from him, which provoked some of the other books to fall from the desk and hit the ground with a musical rhythm, _thud, thud, thud_

He would never find a counter spell. He would never be able to stop the curse spreading in his system, changing him and devouring his magic from the inside out.  
He lay his arms on the table and hid his head in the crook of his arm. A heartbreaking sob echoed through the night.

••••

Carefully, he listened to the deep breath of the girl lying next to him. He could try as hard as he wanted, he did not even manage to remember what she looked like in daylight. The only thing he remembered was that she had only been too willing to get her hands on his body and bath in the attention she would get from her group of friends when Blaise walked next to her or spoke to her.

Again he did not feel like he was needed or appreciated by his latest conquest. Actually, he knew that he was far away from it.  
He was a trophy, a prize to get and then dump after some time when one has seen enough of it. Well, he did not really deserve anything better, he thought. Just the thought of him being in a real relationship was laughable. He would never last longer than a few weeks, for his own protection maybe.

Slowly, he shifted his weight to the edge of her bed where he stopped for a second to make sure that her breathing remained even. Tonight most likely was the last night they had slept together. During the last few days he had realized that her interest in him had been satisfied and she would have probably dumped him tomorrow anyway. He would beat her to it though. With a flick of his wand he summoned a piece of parchment and a quill form her school bag.

"Dear " he began to scratch on the parchment, but then remembered that he only remembered her last name. Shrugging his shoulder he added "my" in front and continued with one of his lame but elegant excuses, why this relationship slash adventure had to come to an end. Yours bla bla and then his name.  
Done.

God he was so tired of it all. He needed to ask Draco to slap him next time he wanted to ask a girl for more than to hand him the sauce for his mashed potatoes.  
In no time he got dressed and placed the note on the girl's night stand. He cast a silencing charm on his feet and crept out of her dormitory, crossed the Slytherin common room and was out on the corridor. A deep sigh escaped him once he was able to breathe fresh and cool air that had no hint of her perfume in it.  
Back to freedom.

••••

Long bushy hair was illuminated by the light at the tip of her wand. She quickly shut her eyes and opened them again to chase away the drowsiness that tried to overcome her. On her knees, Hermione had opened one of her school books on Ancient Runes for this year. The classes were as demanding as never before and she felt like a fish in the sea, her intellect constantly being challenged and having a way to proof herself. It was true that their teachers gave them a lot of work to do in their free time. Ron had already complained about her spending so much time on it _during their first week_ rather than spending it with him.

With a small guilty pang she chewed her bottom lip and turned the page she had not read at all - .due to other thoughts occupying her mind.

She really loved him. He could be annoying as hell sometimes and not really keep up with her wit in some conversations, but he was very caring and always managed to make her smile at the end of the day. If only he would listen more to the small hints she had started to drop during their conversations back at the Burrow this summer.  
Whilst Ron was happily painting their future after Hogwarts with them marrying, having kids, getting a house she was careful to show enthusiasm and at the same time steer him away from these (in her opinion) dangerous topics.

If only he listened to her more closely then he'd know that she simply wasn't ready to do all this. They had barely survived a war for god's sake and she sometimes still felt like a young girl who needed her mum to give her a loving hug and whisper that everything will be fine...  
Her parents were another touchy topic for her. To her great relief she had managed to find them in Australia and lift the memory charm. It had been very hard to separate from them only days later and live at the Burrow for the rest of the summer. She had missed them a lot, but Ron insisted on needing her with him and finally she had given in.

Sometimes she wondered what it would be like to break up with him. It felt as if she could either choose between Ron or making her own dreams come true. A mixture of both did not even seem to be an option and this was what made her restless and she found herself trying to avoid his company overall by mumbling about finishing some homework.  
Not even Harry knew about this and she usually shared everything with her best friend. But he seemed to rely on her and Ron more than ever now that the war was over. She felt that he was in free fall and had no idea when he would reach solid ground under his feet again. Adding the breakup of his two best friends would definitely not help there.

She knew that if she brought her reasons and worries up to Ron his world would shatter violently and who knew for how long they would be fighting about it afterwards. Hermione was simply too tired to face it and it was too easy to close her eyes and just wait until the crash happened - earlier or later, the crash would happen. But how or when, she did not know. And everything she didn't know made her worry sick.

••••

There was only one untroubled mind to find among our young witches and wizards that night. The redhead was tightly wrapped in his blankets, lying on the stomach. A charming snoring sound could be heard from his corner of the room.  
What could possibly be going on in his dream world?

One treacle tart for me...  
Two roast chicken for Ronald...  
Three sausages for the youngest Weasley...


	4. Commemorate & Redecorate

**Ǝ** **TA** **Я** **OM** **Ǝ** **MMO** **Ɔ & ****REDECORATE**

Days went by and a certain routine caught up with the castle's inhabitants. Bells rang for the beginning and release of classes, students gathered in the Great Hall for strengthening meals and a little chit chat. Heads were put together studiously in the library, groans let out when an essay turned out to be especially tricky yet again. In short, it was daily business back at Hogwarts.

When Professor McGonagall stepped into her classroom that Wednesday morning of the second school week, however, she did not at all appreciate the sight that met her observant eyes. Since the 8th year students were so few, it had been decided to put them in class with the 7th years and not make a fuss about the separation of classes according to houses or extra schedules and waste the professor's time.

It so happened that her Gryffindor and Slytherin 7th year students looked up at her as soon as she entered the room, all chattering among them died down and awake, interested eyes followed her around the room. Her 8th years on the other hand sported dark shadows under their eyes, eyelids threatened to close shut any moment, as if heavy weights had been attached to them. Most of them were slouching in their chairs.

Ron and Blaise had both discovered the usefulness of their books as pillows; soft snoring noises could be heard from the second row where they were seated. Neville seemed determined to force his body alive by chewing on Honey Dukes sweets and powering his system with sticky sugar - one sweet after the other found its way into his mouth and his eyes were darting around the classroom without ever stopping for longer than a few seconds. Hannah was seated right next to him, eyelids half closed, head resting on her hand, while her elbow steadied it all on the top of the desk, her hair tied in a bird's nest of a bun, sporting a speck of angry red jam on her left cheek. Theodore wore the facial expression of a man confronted with a Veela, staring at the empty air in front of him - completely void, not a trace of a working brain behind those eyes - while Draco and Hermione rubbed their wide eyes as if they had developed an allergy to fresh air. Or was this a reaction to Wideye Potion? McGonagall suspiciously looked them over again and made a mental note to consult Poppy later that day. Her gaze halted at her last 8th year student and a sharp eyebrow rose - Harry's head had tipped back slightly and his mouth hang open in a very alluring way, eyes closed.

She took a deep, steadying breath. All in all, a bunch of Inferi could have showed more natural life signs and interest in their surroundings than the before mentioned students. McGonagall pressed her lips in a thin line. This would stop immediately. With a malicious glint in her eyes, she directed her books and documents towards the desk's surface and softly floated them down. Then, she walked over to her desk and opened a drawer near the bottom. She was a very organized person and therefore immediately found what she was looking for. Her 7th years kept on watching with intrigued looks on their faces, those looks changed into gleeful expressions and a few of them chuckled once they understood what the small, black object in their professor's hand was exactly.

"You may watch and learn", McGonagall told them, her voice neutral and businesslike. She bent down to the ground and released the object. It immediately scurried around the room, multiplying itself until - BOOM! With several satisfying, loud honking noises the Decoy Detonators exploded all over the classroom.

Ron gave a startled yelp, flinging himself on the floor to escape imaginary danger, Harry's head jerked forward, eyes wide and fearful, his breathing unnaturally fast, Neville threw his hands in the air to cover his head and a shower of candies rained down on the front row of students. Theodore snapped out of his daze, mouth still hanging open slightly, Hannah's elbow slipped off her desk and a painful meeting between her jaw and the desk followed swiftly, Blaise massaged the deep imprint of Advanced Transfiguration for NEWT on his cheek, while Draco laughed at Ron's spectacular dive and Hermione reached for Harry's hand under the table to squeeze it reassuringly.

"Good morning", McGonagall greeted them, sending a stern look around at the students, as if she had _not_ just let loose one of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in her own classroom.  
"Now that everyone seems to be mentally present, we can start with today's lesson."

Some of her students gave a soft applause and whistled, while she swiftly turned around and moved her wand, first to vanish the leftover candy on her classroom floor, then towards the blackboard, hiding a small smile, tucking at the corners of her lips. A series of complicated diagrams, calculations and wand movements appeared.

The lesson continued and the classroom was soon filled with students scratching their quills on parchment while noting down the theoretical part of the spell they would learn today. While walking between the rows of desks, McGonagall thought to herself that this was not a normal _"we-had-a-little-late-night-party-slash-rebellious-we-do-not-want-to-go-to-bed-night"-tiredness_. No, her students seemed not to have had a peaceful night for the last two weeks at least.

She frowned as she tried to find a possible answer to them not resting as they should. Naturally, the memories of the war were still fresh in everyone's mind and it took time to deal with such memories and emotions. Nevertheless, they should be able to talk about this and start leaving the past with everything that happened behind, concentrating on their future. Should they invite a counsellor to the castle and offer them a way to heal through that?

She had to interrupt her own musings when the practical part of the lesson began. In 7th year her students would learn how to transform medium to large animals into objects and the other way around. Today they would transform a goat into a cauldron.

"You complete the wand movement with a swish down while saying _capri despumat aeni_ ", McGonagall showed them how it's done and the grey goat that had stared at her in utter bewilderment just a second ago (what was this woman doing wielding a tiny wooden stick at it), was now replaced by a simple and sturdy looking iron cauldron.

The students made impressed faces and gathered in groups of three around their own goats, waving and canting themselves. Again, McGonagall walked through her classroom and provided instructions where wand movements went wrong or words were pronounced incorrectly.

She observed Theodore as he struggled to hold his wand steady in one hand (it was trembling visibly) and slowly, hesitatingly he repeated the incantation. A small burst of magic was sent from the tip of his wand and the next moment the goat sported a nose ring. Draco and Blaise doubled over with laughter, leaning on each other's shoulder for support, while Theodore clutched his hands together and threw them a half desperate, half poisonous look. McGonagall frowned at the two laughing students and turned a stern look at the young man in front of her.

"Mr Nott, you need to regain control and trust in your own magic. It does not do to practice these spells when you hold yourself back; they require the full of a wizard's power in order to be completed."

Theodore had averted his eyes halfway through her words and sent daggers at the floor. She did not understand; no one did. His magic would deteriorate even further, so that he will be nothing more than a weak, disgusting squib. His lips curled up at this thought and he turned to McGonagall to shut her up.

"I will remember next time", he almost snapped at her and went to lean against a desk, his features set in stone and arms crossed defensively before him. The Professor gave him one last look, then turned around to inspect Hermione's attempt and complement the small thin looking cauldron she had produced. At that moment, a concerned shout whipped through the air of the classroom.

"Professor!"

All eyes darted to the front of the classroom where Hannah, Neville and Sam Marshall, a Gryffindor student, had practiced with their goat. It was Hannah who had shouted out, she was knelt next to a seemingly unmoving Neville who lay on the floor, his limbs unnaturally twisted below and around him. Her hand reached out to the young man's wrist and she could barely feel a faint pulse under her fingertips.

McGonagall was there at once, turning intent eyes on Hannah. She didn't need to use words; the girl began retelling the events without a second of hesitation.

"It was Neville's turn to do the transformation. He started the wand movement when, from one second to the other, his whole body started to shake violently and then it was as if he fell into a deep sleep, everything about him went limp, his eyes closed and he fell over", the look she gave McGonagall told the elder woman that she knew exactly what was going on, but was considerate enough not to share the information with the whole class.

"He needs immediate medical attention", Hannah finished, her voice urgent now. The professor nodded once to show she understood.

"Can we hover him?" she inquired. A confirmative nod was the answer. McGonagall clapped her hands together to get everybody's attention on her, and to keep the other students from gaping at the unmoving body amongst them.

"Class is dismissed. You may leave", then she took out her wand, a shining patronus burst out at the end of its tip. Poppy would know of their immediate arrival in the hospital wing. Hannah placed a hovering charm on Neville's body and together, the two women hurried out of the room.

It took several seconds for the remaining students to process the prior events and remember how to move their bodies. Excited murmurs could be heard as they all left in small groups, coming up with possible explanations as to why Neville had so suddenly collapsed. Draco and Blaise already put their heads together, chuckling about some private choke, undoubtedly at the expense of the young Gryffindor. Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged worried looks. What in Merlin's name had happened to their friend?

••••

Hannah carefully dimmed the light and tiptoed back across the room to sit down next to the bed. Neville's figure was now covered by soft and warm sheets. His chest rose and fell in a steady, hypnotising manner. Shadows played across his face and she was glad that they had been in time.

In time to prevent worse, in time to safe her friend.

Only now did she allow relief to wash over her, tingling through her body, loosening all the tensed up nerves and muscles, calming the thoughts in her mind, which had been hammering away all this time. He would recover, with their help and support. No one would die today.

She felt a sudden wetness on her cheek and dismissively brushed a single tear away. Sometimes she marvelled at herself for being so emotional. Shaking her head as if to put her thoughts back into the right order, she carefully reached out to caress the boy's cheek.

Oh, Neville, she thought sadly, why didn't you talk to me? Why didn't you talk to anyone about what bothered you enough to follow down that path? If only she had taken better care of him, if only she had paid closer attention, if only she had seen it coming...

She shook her head again. Those thoughts were dangerous, she knew it well. But knowing that didn't mean she could stop them from coming back like a boomerang to hit her square in the chest.

Her wand on the nightstand started to vibrate lightly, pulling her out of these sombre thoughts. It was a timer that reminded her to give him another dose of the antidote. Draught of Peace poisoning, she shook her head again, uncorked the flask and spelled a quarter of the potion inside Neville's body. The door to Madam Pomfrey's private quarters opened and the matron stepped silently next to Hannah. 

"No changes?" the elder woman asked as she reached her. Hannah shook her head.

"His breathing is steady; body temperature slowly goes back to normal. No negative reaction to the antidote visible", she informed her. Madam Promfrey carefully laid one hand on the young girl's shoulder and smiled softly.

"I taught you well. Now it is time for you to go and rest. It is almost midnight", she said, frowning at a quickly cast tempus charm. "You have done all you could. Thank you". The hand squeezed down for a second, and then she was being shooed out of the Hospital Wing.

Hannah stood there, alone in the moonlit corridor, dark emotions had been stirred awake at the sight of her friend's lifeless body and they were washing over her in waves that gradually became stronger and harder to ignore. She took a shaking breath. She felt like she was ready to share her first emotion.

With new determination driving her body into action, she strode down corridors and stairs until she reached the kitchens. Her rucksack was in its usual place. Following the secret passage from the kitchens out onto the castle ground was an easy task. Her feet knew their way by now without her help. The cool September air felt good on her face. She didn't dare thinking the memory over too often, fearing that it would lessen the emotion of sadness if she did.

The outskirts of the forbidden forest came into few and soon she stepped among its trees into a different world. She had never really been to the Forbidden Forest during her school years. That changed after the war. Like so many things had changed after the war.

Finally, she reached her destination. A small clearing stretched out before her. Among the trees, she had installed several lanterns which she charmed alight, showering the area with warm, dim light.

She carefully set down the rucksack, opened it and accioed out a small bird cage. While cradling it to her body, she walked to the middle of the clearing. There, she set the cage down and then stepped back, as far away as the surrounding trees allowed her to do. A wand movement and whispered incantation had the small cage expanding to the size of a small family home. A low screech and the ruffling of soft fabric told her that the cage was still occupied. She lent her rucksack against the outside of the cage, stuffing her wand in it. After another calming breath she opened the door shaped gate and entered the cage, making sure to close it shut behind her.

She allowed herself to contemplate the creature for a moment. It was a type of bird, slightly larger than a Phoenix would be. Its sharp beak and claws sported the colour of pure gold and made suitable and very lethal weapons, should it decide to attack. Her eyes roamed over its body that was covered in soft and fluffy feathers which, at the moment, had the pure colour of snowy white. It was almost blinding to watch the light being reflected off them while the creature ruffled its feathers as it started to preen. The tail consisted of three sinewy, but strong looking separate tails, each of them dotted with pompoms of an unknown material - they were feathery, then firm, next time she looked they reminded her of rippling water. Their size decreased the further away they were situated from the body.

The creature gave another screech and swished its tail, creating a soft melody that vibrated deep within her own body, she felt like a strange kind of magic washed through her, one she would never be able to comprehend fully and told her that this creature owned magic.

Hannah focused on the creatures head and said in a soft voice that seemed to carry on through the trees.

"I brought you my first emotion".

The creature's head snapped around. But there were no eyes to focus on her in that head. Simply more feathers covering the area above its beak. She tried and failed to hold back a shudder, trying to remind herself that by the she had made a promise to the man and by the end of the process, this would change, but still... the bird reminded her far too much of a different, eyeless and hooded creature roaming this world.

She gulped and made to sit down cross-legged, her arms resting loosely at the side of her body. The creature spread its wings in a single, flowing movement and took off from the perch it had been sitting on, circling the cage once and then swooping down towards the shaking Hufflepuff. Its claws sank painfully into her shoulders, one foot on each of them. While the shortest tail wrapped tightly around her head, the two others snaked their way down her arms. The pompoms seemed to glue themselves to her skin like the suckers of a squid. She tried hard not to cry out in pain as she waited until the bird was settled. It gave another low screech and settled its rather heavy head on top of hers, signalling her to begin.

Concentrating on the memory Hannah had prepared, she let her emotions flow freely through her body, from head to toe, from knee to ear, from fingertip to hip. No holding back was allowed, it wasn't necessary this time.

She was alone now; reliving the memory of seeing her mother, lying dead in a pool of her own dried blood after the Death Eaters had attacked their home. She could feel the urge to vomit again, the sensation of her heart being strangled by a tight rope and the whole universe narrowing down on this one emotion.

Despair.  
Sadness.  
Sorrow.  
Sadness.  
Misery.  
And more Sadness.

She managed to open her eyes and only saw a blur of what used to be the world while crying her very soul out of her body. She hardly noticed the trail of pulsing, small dark lights moving from her body through the pompoms, up the tail and into the creature.

The change of colour was gradually. It began with soft streaks of grey among white, then there were whole feathers tainted in blackness, slowly the whole of the left wing resembled a dark starless sky, until the very last bit of fluffy white was snuffed out.

With a long, sorrowful cry, the creature released its hold on her and dragged itself off her shoulders to curl into a tight fluffy black hole on the floor behind her. Hannah's body still shook with her sobs, as she turned around to face the now suffering creature.

"I am sorry", she whispered, "I am so sorry."

••••

They had all made it to the weekend with the school still standing and no further accidents among the students.

Thank goodness, Minerva McGonagall thought to herself as she leant back in the high chair of the Headmistress's office, nipping at her amber coloured drink. The Longbottom boy was well taken care of by Poppy and Ms Abott, showing signs of improving health already. Her old friend had let her know that the boy's core would need more time to recover and he would most likely miss the bigger part of a month worth of lessons.

She sighed and took another sip, enjoying the warmth that spread through her body as the liquid wound its way down.

"Minnyyy", came a light sing-song voice from the wall at her back.

She felt her body tense again with light dread, closed her eyes, counted to three, and then turned to face the portrait of a white bearded wizard, his eyes twinkling behind half-moon shaped spectacles.

"Yes, what is it, Albus?" she was proud of how patient her voice sounded, not feeling like that at all. The old man in the painting was plucking at the soft fabric of his robes which were a vibrant flamingo pink and had yellow lemon drops all over it.

"Do you think that if you fed butter to flies, they would turn into butterflies?" he asked, his tone light, eyes twinkling furiously.

McGonagall moaned and felt the urgent need to bang her head against the surface of the desk, while Albus had the nerve to giggle. Somehow, after the war ended and people turned back to their normal lives, Albus had decided that everyone obviously had the need to be cheered up and their minds needed to be taken off serious things, so as to make their life more enjoyable.

So far, so good.

However, he had chosen the method of asking the most stupid and irritating questions at random times throughout her day to achieve this. And obviously she seemed to be his favourite victim, what with his painting hanging in the Headmistress's office and her _being_ the Headmistress.

Before she could decide on whether to answer this time or not, however, a soft knock came from the door. Thank goodness, she thought for the second time this day and called out for her visitors to come in.

Her fellow professors entered in a neat line, choosing one of the seven comfy looking chairs all of which were arranged in a half circle before her desk. She had called a meeting so as to discuss the 8th years which caused her genuine concern with their behaviour.

"Thank you for coming", she gave a nod in their general direction. "I would like to talk to you about the students who have returned to repeat their 7th year. It has come to my attention during classes that some of their performances have impaired. The question of their physical health is added to my concerns, since they seem to be sleep deprived and barely functional in the mornings." She paused, seeing some of her colleagues nodding along. "What have your experiences been?" she enquired. Pomona spoke up, her usually kind face and eyes were full of concern.

"Well, they all seem rather broody during classes and distant. Almost as if they have yet to realize that they live in the present", she explained.

"Instructions need often to be repeated, because they didn't pay attention", Horace added, patting his bulging belly to underline his annoyance. "This slows down their potion making."

"They do not seem to interact much with their fellow students, always keeping to the same people", Chandler Brown, Professor for Care of Magical Creatures, chimed in. "I hardly get them to separate when we do group tasks."

Septima and Bathshoba exchanged a look, and then Septima spoke up. "We only teach Mr Zabini, Mr Malfoy and Ms Granger. However, they all show signs of strong fatigue during some classes which has a negative impact on their performances sometimes."

"I also observed strong fatigue and a tendency to avoid other students in classes among these students", Filius squeaked, his feet dangling from the high chair. "Another concern is Mr Nott's weak magical level", he went on and some of his colleagues nodded in agreement. "We should investigate and see if we can help the boy to recover his original power."

A throat was cleared and they all glanced at the last person of their circle. Mablevi Ajanlekoko, Professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts, carefully chose his words.  
"The students show extraordinary ability in handling defence and offense situations. Their duelling skills are refined, their reactions almost more intuitive than planned. However, they seem unable to differentiate between a battle ground and the safe environment of a classroom. Too often, I fear, they get stuck in the mindset of fight or die, which endangers the safety of the other students."

McGonagall sighed. She had expected to hear something along that line. Still, the weight settling on her shoulders was heavy.

"How would you suggest we help them? I contemplated inviting a counsellor to our school, so they would have a person to talk to and deal with the trauma of the war and focus their thoughts on the present and future" the Headmistress suggested. "Naturally, that person would be sworn to secrecy and unable to reveal any information they have received", she added as an afterthought.

"I want to give them a feeling of trust and understanding. I want to give them closure." Her intelligent eyes burnt with determination and more than one of her colleagues was wearing an indulgent smile.

After a short discussion they all agreed on inviting a counsellor and seeing whether this would clear some of their students obviously brooding tendencies away. Their meeting slowly dissolved, her colleagues saying goodbye and Albus sending them all off with a happy "Toodle-loo, Kangaroo!" that made them chuckle and hurry their steps to get out of the office.

"Minnyyy", he turned his head towards where she was standing near the door.

"No, Albus!" she snapped and fled the room, hot on her colleagues' heels. Her destination was the 8th year's common room. They would all need to go through a medical check-up before their appointments with the counsellor and she'd rather do them sooner than later.

The corridors were almost empty, for it was a sunny mid September evening and most of the students had decided to enjoy it on the castle grounds. She might need to leave to the grounds herself, she thought, in case the common room turned out to be deserted. Not really expecting any students to be inside, she gave the password and the portrait swung open to utter mayhem.

 _A little bit earlier that day_

The Golden Trio spent their sunny afternoon huddled up back in the 8th year common room, occupying the ugly couches close to the fireplace. Hermione had strictly refused to go outside for studying, because "the sun would make it impossible to read a single word and I'd rather not go blind, thank you very much". Harry and Ron had complained, _a lot_ , however, in the end staying with Hermione made it was more likely that they could copy some of her lines to pep up their essays.

The bushy brown haired girl was now bent low over her parchment, three quarters of it was covered in neat and minuscule handwriting. Small blotches of ink were visible on her fingers, as well as her nose. Her feather swished purposefully through the air, as if it performed a little happy dance.

Harry brooded over his potions book wearing a frown, turning pages in the hope of finding another piece of information to complete describing the effects of a Wit-Sharpening potion, which he thought would come in handy at this very moment. Every other minute he would add another couple of words, checking and re-checking how close he was to reach the required 12 inches now.

Ron was trying to simultaneously catch a glance of his girlfriend's writing to copy some much needed inspiration down and fend of Crookshanks' tries to climb on his lap and camp there for the next century. He considered it a miracle that this annoying fur ball had actually survived the war, but wouldn't have complained about its loss.

"Ge' off me", he hissed and tried to push the stubborn cat aside for what must have been the hundredth time.

"Just let him", Hermione sighed and shot her boyfriend an exasperated look, while the bloody cat started purring in his lap.

"I'm not his bloody bed", he shot back and reached for his wand to cast a Wingardium Leviosa on the cat when said cat decided to sink its claws down through the thin trousers of Ron's school uniform, provoking a series of pained exclamations. Arms flailed wildly through the air, sending parchment, quills and ink bottles flying everywhere around the sitting area, causing the other two to dive over the sofa.

Ron dance-limped through the room and tried to shake the cat off. He gave another violent jerk with his right leg and finally Crookshanks had had enough of it and leapt gracefully through the room, landing on his four paws and prancing over to the sitting area, as if nothing had happened. The redhead gaped. 

"The _nerve_ of him", he growled.

The other two were standing behind the couches, badly muffled laughter had escaped through their hands while watching the scene. Now they were openly laughing at him, holding their bellies.

"Oh, shut up you two", Ron glowered, but a grin already threatened to break through.

"Oh dear," Hermione said, gasping for air, "that is quite the mess."

Indeed, quills were scattered across the floor, parchment, carpet and couch alike were spattered with black ink and small bits of paper lay here and there in a casual arrangement to complete the picture.

"Still looks better than before," Harry remarked. "I wish we could..." his face lit up with the arrival of a sudden idea. His two best friends exchanged a look, perking up. The dark haired boy hadn't looked this enthusiastic since the beginning of the school year.

"What?" they asked in unison, eager to make him share his idea.

"I wish we could redecorate a bit," Harry continued his thought, tapping his forefinger against his nose. "You know, just so we would feel homey in our own common room." He made an artificial pause. "Gryffindor homey," a wide grin spread across all three faces and they set to work, banning their ruined homework to their dormitories.

Hermione, who was best at Transfigurations, took care of changing the ugly couches into four plushy grandfather armchairs, as well as one couch that could fit another four people on it. She arranged the armchairs so they guarded the couch on each side, all of the furniture facing the fireplace. Next she attacked the ugly cream coloured carpet, replacing it with small, circle-shaped carpets that were spread in different places of the common room. On top of the carpet next to the fireplace and surrounded by the armchairs and couch, she conjured a pretty dark wooden table, consisting of three circle shaped surfaces that were arranged on different heights. Then, she transformed the two separate square tables into round ones, replacing the chairs and their stiff chair backs with much comfier versions.

Ron trailed after her, taking care of the colouring. The furniture by the fireplace turned a deep ruby; the cushions in dark gold completed the scene. The inside of the carpets sported various shades of the colour red, while the same dark gold as the cushions snaked around the edge of the carpets like a ribbon.

Harry took care of the special effects. He used a convenient charm on the furniture and carpets to make them water-, fire-, and whatever-substance-you-could-spill-on-a-couch-proof. On the sideboard below the painting of Hogwarts, he conjured several small bowls of sweets and snacks to nibble. A medium sized Gryffindor banner was placed on the wall above the fireplace, the lion on it enchanted to roar every full hour.

Finished and happy with their work, all three of them fell back onto the couch and sighed as their bodies sank deep into the comforting and warm fabric. It turned five o'clock and the lion roared in delight, which caused another fit of laughter among the three Gryffindors and earned Harry a pat on the back from Ron.

The portrait hole opened and in tumbled three Slytherins and one Hufflepuff, having finished their studying and returning from outside, all four wore utterly stunned looks at the scene that greeted them.

"What happened here?" Draco sneered, shooting a disdainful look at the Gryffindor banner. "Are you attempting to infect us with Gryffindor dunderhead disease?"

Both Ron's and Harry's eyes narrowed.

"We've decided to do something about the terrible colour arrangement and make it homier," Hermione lightly answered, not even bothering to turn her head.

"Not for the better, that is clear," Blaise drew his wand and flicked it over the room. In no time, the red was turned emerald green, gold was now silver and a snake was curled around the lion's head, looking down on it with contempt.

"Oy," Ron leapt up from the couch as if it had bitten his posterior. "We don't want your slimy house colours in here!" he yelled. Blaise rose one, cool eyebrow.

"Nor do _we_ want _yours_ ," he stated as calm as a deer, emphasising the two words, knowing it would rile the redhead up even more.

Soon enough any onlooker could calmly sit down in front of the portrait hole, munching on popcorn, while students ran all over the room, transforming furniture, changing colours, throwing insults, trying to beat each other to their goal first: dominating the common room with their house colours.

After a few pathetic tries, Theodore had given up on doing much magic and rather focused on tripping up unsuspecting passersby as they tramped through the room, not looking at the ground in their haste.

Hannah had quite a lot of fun adding plants to the room, which looked more and more like a strange type of jungle, and dying people's hair yellow without them noticing.

Hermione and Blaise were coolly trying to beat the other in doing ridiculously difficult transfigurations, often pulling up an impressed eyebrow, before smirking at the other and transforming the next object.

Ron ran around the room, colouring everything in red he set eyes on, once hitting Theodore with a spell, accidently (or maybe not so much).

Harry and Draco had started a childish argument, both holding on to the lion/snake banner that had been torn off the wall at some point.

"No, you can't hang it up"  
"Yes, I can"  
"No"  
"Can so"  
"Git"  
"Brat"  
"Scarhead"

This scene is what poor McGonagall's eyes met once the portrait swung open. Let's say the silent prayer for her strained nerves with her. 

She took a deep breath and cast _immobilus_. Like the pixies in their second year Defence Against the Dark Arts class, the students froze at once, most of them in the midst of hilarious movements.

"You will immediately end this childish behaviour. You will turn the common room back to as it was, or at least back to a respectable state. You will be present in the Hospital Wing for a check-up at nine o'clock Monday morning." She managed to bark out these words, and then she turned sharply to walk back in the direction she had come from.

May Merlin have mercy on that woman; she might need more than one of her amber liquid drinks to get over that shock...


End file.
